Bohemian Scandals
by Lucinda
Summary: Irene Adler has a most unusual uncle, and an unusual life. BtVS-Sherlock Holmes
1. Nearly Scandalous

Nearly Scandalous  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg/pg13  
  
main characters: William, Irene Adler-Norton  
  
disclaimer: William (the Bloody) belongs to Joss Whedon, Irene Adler is the creation of Sir Aurthur Conan-Doyle.  
  
distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Quickfics anyone else please ask.  
  
note: This is set in the 1890's, in Bath, England. The only character from BtVS/AtS that will be present is William(Spike). Most of the other characters mentioned will be the creations of Sir Aurthur Conan Doyle. I got to speculating about the possibilities of Spike's past, and if he had any living relatives...  
  
  
  
  
  
Irene Adler-Norton sighed, sitting near the fire at the new home where she and her husband had decided to make a new life. Granted, the marriage had been sudden... alright, almost scandalously sudden, but that didn't mean that she wasn't sincerely trying to make a good future. Godfrey was staying late at the office with his partner, the respected barrister Jonathan Giles, in an effort to make certain that he would be accepted, that they would be able to fit themselves into life here in Bath. It was a lovely city, and the minerals in the waters were supposed to be splendid for the health and complexion. But still, she couldn't help but miss a few things from her old life.  
  
She'd shocked and appalled her parents by running away to join a theatre. It was not at all the respectable thing, although it wasn't quite the disreputable occupation that it had once been. She'd traveled, taking the chance to see the world, to visit far away places, and meet fascinating people... among them her darling Sigi. Well, not really her darling anymore, but for a while, she had been hopelessly in love with him. She'd had hopes that maybe... But he had told her that they could never be, because his heritage, his duty to his country demanded otherwise from him. Unfortunately, her Sigi had actually been Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, who had been the heir to the throne of Bohemia. It had nearly broken her heart when they had separated...  
  
There was a sudden thump at the door. The knock repeated, loud enough that she couldn't possibly ignore it, but probably not loud enough to carry to the servants' quarters upstairs. Puzzled, Irene made her way to the front door, fumbling a moment with the lock before she was able to swing the door open a bit. There was a single man standing on the porch, the night and his heavy coat obscuring his features. "Hello?"  
  
"You didn't leave a forwarding address, 'Renie. Been a bit of a bother tracking you down." The voice held a bit of amusement, and carried a hint of the continent in his words.  
  
Irene smiled, her face lifting, and suddenly, she looked ten years younger. "Uncle William! Oh, this is a delightful surprise. Do come in, please."   
  
Still smiling, Irene flocked her unanticipated guest back to her sitting room, gesturing for him to take the other seat. Taking his coat and hat, she draped them over the couch. Her own hair was much darker than the nearly honey brown of her guest, but they had the same brilliant blue eyes, the same striking cheekbones, although her cheeks were a bit softer than his. "So, how have you been lately? Enjoying your travels with Angelus and Drusilla?"  
  
"Things have been interesting. Darla's furious with me again, certain that I'm going to get us all killed. But the thing is... well, why bother living or unliving if you aren't having any fun? How have things been with you, lately?" He smiled, leaning back in the chair with a relaxed air.  
  
Irene giggled, the fire adding color to her cheeks. "Well, I've gotten married, and we moved here."  
  
"Not to that Sigi ponce? He's not good enough for you, too busy worrying about family pedigrees and reputations." There was a low growl from William, and his eyes flickered from blue to gold.  
  
Irene sighed, thinking about Sigi and the entire epilog to that relationship. "No, not Sigi. He'd announced his betrothal to Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, who is a Scandinavian princess. Someone with impeccably rich ancestors back for centuries. No, I married Godfrey Norton, a barrister. We're... I think we can be happy."  
  
"A barrister? Hmm... are you starting to take after your favorite uncle after all?" William sounded very amused. "You probably still have a flock of admirers from that stint at the Imperial Opera."  
  
Laughing, Irene looked into the fire. "Surely they're all on the continent."  
  
"I know of one in London. Something of a detective, actually." William leaned back a little, basking in the warmth of the fire. "Turns out that a detective named Holmes has a small portrait of you in his office. Not a bad investigator, although it took him... well, never mind that."  
  
"Uncle William, please tell me you haven't ran afoul of him." She looked over, watching her 'uncle' closely. William wasn't precisely her uncle, there should by rights be a few greats in there. She was the great grand daughter of his older sister, and one of the few members of the family that enjoyed the company of him. He would periodically check in on them, 'just to keep track of everything' as he put it. He had been the one who had encouraged her to follow her dreams, to get to be what she wanted from life, instead of staying within the range of proper behavior.  
  
"No, there was just... I had a bit of a wager with someone else, and Holmes was the topic of it. He almost lost me a good thirty pounds." Shaking his head, William produced a slender cigar. "Mind if I smoke?"  
  
Irene gestured for him to go right ahead, feeling entirely calm about her guest. "And did the great detective know that you were watching him?"  
  
"Not at all. So much for his wonderful powers of observation... well, actually, he's damn good at it for someone who's only human." William sighed, puffing at his cigar. "I'll have to keep a bit closer eyes on you then. Make sure this husband of yours treats you right."  
  
"I'm sure he will, uncle William. But if he doesn't, I shall let you know, and you will be able to come and arrange for his disappearance quite easily." Irene shook her head. Her uncle tended to go for the direct and often violent solution to so many things. It was probably a side effect of him being a vampire.  
  
"Of course, ducks. That's what I'm here for, and you are my favorite niece." William smiled, enjoying his visit.  
  
end Nearly Scandalous. 


	2. Scandalous Connections

Author: Lucinda  
  
Rating: pg/pg13  
  
Second in Bohemian Scandals  
  
Main characters: Irene Adler-Norton, William (Spike), and Drusilla  
  
Disclaimer: Spike belongs to Joss Whedon; Irene Adler is the creation of Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle.  
  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Quickfics anyone else please ask.  
  
Note: This is set in the 1910s, with Irene Adler-Norton (of Sherlock Holmes) as a relative of a Vampire then known as William the Bloody (although not to his niece).  
  
  
  
  
  
Her husband, Godfrey Norton, had been unsettled about something for perhaps a week. It had been making him short tempered, snappish, both towards the servants and at Irene. It had dated precisely to the day that the legal firm he was a partner of had accepted James Travers as one of their clients. She'd heard very little about him, but apparently, Mister Travers was from just outside of London, and was some sort of scholar in history and languages. Nothing in the descriptions that she'd heard gave any explanation for her husband's unease, but... But it dated from his first meeting with Travers. Every time he spoke with the man, his mood was fouler than the night before. How could the two things not be connected?  
  
Irene considered asking him to drop Travers from the list of clients, but knew that it would not happen. Considering the utter certainty that they would keep Travers among their clients regardless of anything short of red-handed murder, Irene said nothing. There was no point in having her worries dismissed as mere womanly nerves. It was more likely since she had nothing to explain things. Just her husband's foul mood, her own unease, and a feeling, as if something bad were looming in the future. Her grandmother had tried to claim the gift of prescience, of seeing the future, claiming that it was a gift that ran in the family, a token of a gypsy great grandmother. But nobody would take such a claim seriously.  
  
No, nothing would change until disaster struck. And she was certain that it would. But she was at a total loss as to what form, or why. Travers was prosperous, but had no title or major debts that she'd been able to discretely discover. His son was away at the university in Cambridge. Travers didn't work for the British government, or any other nation's government. He only had moderate investments in anything, certainly not enough to draw wrath upon his head. But she still had the feeling that trouble would befall them, and it would somehow be the fault or influence of Travers.  
  
Perhaps she should have considered more carefully when Godfrey suggested the evening walk. Considering her uncle, it wasn't as if she was entirely unknowing of the dangers in the darkness. But she had hoped to strengthen her marriage, to soothe her husband's mood. And so, having grabbed a bonnet, they left the house, walking along the river. Bath was lovely by moonlight, and there were the faint noises of insects, the hooting of an owl, and the sound of something harshly breathing behind them...  
  
Irene spun around, clutching at her skirts in the hopes that she would be able to flee. There was a... thing standing there in the moonlight. Nearly half again the height of a man, it's body was covered with scales like a serpent, and it had a single horn emerging from it's forehead, almost like a rhinoceros from the menagerie. She couldn't breath, couldn't scream, and her terror held her rooted in place. Uncle William had warned her that demons were real. With a deep growl, it lashed out at her husband, dark talons ripping his chest open, spraying blood into the night, filling the air with its scent. As if the blood had dissolved some lock, Irene screamed, and spun around, trying to flee. She barely got more than a few steps before she felt the back of her dress part, and fiery pain blossomed in lines over her back.  
  
The ground was hard, and smelled faintly damp, but it was a natural scent, not the scent of her husband's blood. There was another noise, almost like a pair of roaring leopards, and something distracted the demon, kept it from finishing her off like it had poor Godfrey. She tried to hold to awareness, but her head was throbbing now, pulsing as if it and not her heart was responsible for sending her blood rushing through her veins.  
  
"Reenie?" She knew that voice, even though it sounded as if it was coming from far away. "Damn it, Reenie, are you still here?"  
  
It seemed to take an awful amount of effort to speak, and she couldn't quite manage to move. "Uncle William? There was a demon..."  
  
All of a sudden, the world shifted, and the ground wasn't under her anymore. She was being held in someone's arms, as if she weighed no more than a small child. It made her back sting more, and a tiny whimper emerged. She felt cold, and couldn't quite think clearly.  
  
She didn't know how much time had passed, with darkness swirling over her, occasionally thinning enough that she could hear her uncle talking with a woman, someone that he called Dru. Must be his ladylove, Drusilla. She could almost understand them, but it seemed like too much effort right now.  
  
"Reenie? I need you to invite Dru inside. We're trying to help you." Her uncle's words were slow and clear, as if he was making extra effort.  
  
She felt like she blinked, but everything was still black and the sounds muffled. "Drusilla... Welcome to my house."  
  
The next thing that Irene was clear on, she was laying on her stomach in her bed. Her gown and under-things had been removed, and someone was smoothing a cool salve over her back. The slashes burned and itched, sending the memory of the attack crashing back at her. "My husband is dead, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes, pretty, your poor knight has fallen. The nasty thing hit him, and there were patterns everywhere, screaming of death and suffering. But I don't know why... your knight couldn't have done anything." A woman's voice, slightly lilting, her tone calm, almost peaceful. As if she was discussing a story from a book...  
  
"This is Travers' fault. My husband's firm took a new client, and I was certain that he would bring trouble..." Irene gasped for breath, the pain suddenly intense as the cool fingers his the edge of the rip. "I just couldn't find any reason why someone would go after James Travers."  
  
"Because he is a nasty man, always leaving eyes where they should not be. Shame on him. My sweet William can explain it better, but you are not ready for company yet. We shall get you dressed, and then I shall have your little maid bring up tea. She's a pretty pet, all big eyes and trembling like a leaf..." There was a pause, as if the woman was considering the servants. "But we won't hurt your servants. Mustn't disrupt things more than they already are."  
  
Drusilla wrapped bandages over the wounds, and then helped her into a dressing gown. From there, she found herself carried by the dark hared woman with the too bright dark eyes into her sitting room. Uncle William was pacing, a slender cigar in one hand as he scowled at the curtains.  
  
"My sweet, explain why someone would want to hurt the nasty man. Too many unwelcome eyes..." Drusilla actually hissed then, like a cat, flexing her fingers into curves. "I will go fetch the tea."  
  
Irene looked at her uncle, feeling exhausted by simple being awake. "This is because of James Travers, isn't it? He recently became a client of the legal firm. I've had a bad feeling about it, but I couldn't find anything to justify it."  
  
"James Travers runs the Council of Watchers. Bunch of stuffy fellows keeping books on demons and vampires, trying to keep a short rein on the Slayer. A girl who has special abilities, and goes hunting for the monsters." William was scowling, his eyes flickering from blue to gold to blue again. "It sounds like... Damn it Reenie, I hate to say it, but it sounds like your husband was killed to get to Travers."  
  
Irene felt faint, but she wasn't certain if it was from the news, or from her injuries. "Kills vampires? Are you safe here?"  
  
"Pretty safe, considering the current one's supposed to be over in France somewhere. And there are ways... But that's not a conversation for now. It's pure luck that we were here at the right time, else you'd be dead as well." He ran his hand through light brown hair.  
  
"We shall stay long enough for you to get all better." Drusilla's voice floated over. "I brought the tea, with a little pitcher of cream, and wedges of lemon. Do not worry, lovey, we will stay, and I will teach you how to listen to the stars, the pretty pictures they send you. No more guessing and bad feelings, but clear pictures."  
  
"Dru, luv, what do you mean? Does Reenie... is she having visions?" William looked worried.  
  
"Not yet. They are all blurry and far away. I shall have to teach her how to listen, and then it will all be clear to her. That's her destiny, you know." Drusilla nodded, settling the tray on the small table, her hands running over her green gown, smoothing the wrinkles away. "Shall I pour?"  
  
"Please do. I think it would pull on the... injuries if I did." Irene was trying to make sense of the world again. Her husband had been killed by a demon that had a grudge against James Travers. Travers was part of a group that observed and carefully hunted vampires. William and Drusilla would be staying for a while, and Dru said that she was prescient. "So many changes..."  
  
"Everything changes, pretty. But if you listen, you hear it whispering from around the corner. Scritch, scratch... change is coming. A long road ahead of you, pretty." Dru nodded, as if agreeing with herself about something.  
  
Irene shivered just a little, remembering what William had once told her. His love had been driven half mad by her visions. Would the same happen to her? She was almost afraid to wonder about it.  
  
"You won't be alone in the world. You're family, Irene." William's voice was soft, but filled with determination.   
  
She managed a weak smile. "I wouldn't want to be alone."  
  
End Scandalous Connections 


	3. Not So Grieving Widow

Author: Lucinda  
  
Rating: pg/pg13  
  
Third in Bohemian Scandals  
  
Main characters: Irene Adler-Norton, William (Spike), and Drusilla  
  
Disclaimer: William & Dru belong to Joss Whedon; Irene Adler is the creation of Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle.  
  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Quickfics anyone else please ask.  
  
Note: This is set in the 1910s, with Irene Adler-Norton (of Sherlock Holmes) as a relative of the Vampire then known as William the Bloody (although not to his niece).  
  
  
  
"You have to learn to control them." Dru's voice was soft as she poured tea into the delicate china cup. "If you can't sort out the visions, then you'll go mad, just like I did. Of course, my Daddy helped me, helped my descent into darkness and pain, but he's not here. We won't tell him about you."  
  
Irene sighed, thinking that it seemed a bit odd to be sitting here, having tea with her uncle's vampire lover, discussing visions of the future. Drusilla had been telling her that her 'bad feeling' was a sign that she had the sight, and that she would soon get more of it. That she would see far more, and in greater detail. The idea was frightening, even as she knew that it was the truth.  
  
She'd had so many visits lately from the neighbors, expressing quiet shock about her husband's passing. He'd been found along the riverbank, and the constables had declared it the work of wild dogs. It was odd to see how many were sincere, how many were simply going through the expected social forms, and how many were seeking some sort of fascinating gossip. So many had been disappointed to find that her 'cousin' and his 'wife' had arrived for a visit, and that they had thankfully been there to support her in her time of need. She'd claimed that the shock of it all, combined with grief had sent her to her sickbed.  
  
Everyone outside the household had been convinced, although the fact that she'd been a successful actress for several years had helped make that a bit more convincing. Between her injuries and the fact that she kept feeling queasy, it had been easy to convince the society at Bath that she was not up to much socializing, in large part because it was true. How easy it was to hide the truth with a convincing lie...  
  
"Irene?" Dru's voice pulled her attention back. "Would you like cream and sugar in your tea now?"  
  
She touched her hand, running her finger over the top of her wedding ring. "Two sugars and cream, please. Dru? How... how can I gain control over these?"  
  
"Visions are tricky things, 'Reenie." William's voice preceded him into the room. Settling on the other end of the sofa from Dru, he reluctantly accepted a cup of tea. "Sometimes, Dru can't do much more than try to figure them out, or maybe write them down for later."  
  
Sipping at her tea, Irene sighed. "So, if these feelings do get stronger, I run the risk of madness. And even if I don't go mad, I still might not understand what they're trying to say? And during all of this, I need to try to keep the neighbors from finding out, because that would only cause more troubles."  
  
"Sums it up nicely, luv. Of course, you got another reason to be careful not to lose yourself." William leaned back, leaving his teacup on the small table. With a little smile, he gestured towards her mid-section. "It sounds like your departed husband left you a little something."  
  
"What? Left me..." Irene felt unbalanced again, as if she'd been spun in circles. "Are you suggesting that I'm.. that the feelings of illness are not from injury or grief?"  
  
Drusilla giggled just a little. "We shall have to find you little dressing gowns and blankets. Possibly little toys and rattles... There is a tiny precious bundle growing inside you, with pretty dark eyes and tiny fingers."  
  
Irene sighed, closing her eyes to fight the prickling of tears. A baby... that would have been wonderful news had she learned of it a month ago, but now that Godfrey was dead... Everything was more complicated. "This complicates things."  
  
"I suppose the timing isn't the best, but..." William shrugged. "Nothing that can be done for that now. You won't have to go through this alone and... Wait a moment, what about this place?"  
  
"There is currently an effort being made to find Godfrey's brother. Legally, the house would be his now, as would anything that was Godfrey's. I might be able to contest some of the will if I have a son, but..." She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of frustration about the unfairness of the situation.  
  
"If it comes down to that, I'll buy a place and leave you watching it. Just so you have somewhere to call home." William took her hand, looking at her. "You're family, Reenie, and I'm not going to leave you floundering."  
  
She smiled, feeling oddly reassured. "Thank you for that. It's good to know that I have someone who cares. And if it comes down to it, Bath might not be the best place to stay, especially if these visions get stronger."  
  
"We should go away, across the ocean, so that when things fall apart, your life isn't broken. And it will let you slip away from the prying eyes of the nasty sneaky men." Dru nodded, looking solemn.  
  
"I've heard that New York is a pretty decent city." William sipped at his tea again, frowning at it a little.  
  
Irene nodded, considering things. "I don't think Bath is the place to stay for too long. For a while, but… I don't want Travers to know about my baby. I'm not sure why, but… no. Of course, that could be because I think it's because of him that my husband was killed, but right now, I don't much care why."  
  
"Right then. We'll make certain everything's legally wrapped up, and we'll get you away from here. Might end up in London for a bit, before leaving, but I'm sure we can keep Travers and his bloody spies from following you." William had a particular gleam in his eye, one that reminded her that he was a dangerous man, one who existed on the blood and sometimes death of the living.  
  
Almost, Irene opened her lips to say something, to ask him not to. But instead, different words emerged. "Be careful. If the idea is to escape his attention… I don't want more drawn because someone was careless. Which is one reason why I need to figure out what to do about these visions and feelings."  
  
Drusilla giggled, clapping her hands lightly. "I know! We can get her a book, and she can write them all down. Put them on the pages, so she can look back at the little whispers and flickers… can you draw, Irene? Can you draw the pretty pictures that the stars and moon will show you?"  
  
"I can draw, or at least well enough." Irene smiled. "What would they become? Simply Irene's journals? Books of prophecy? Diaries of Destiny?"  
  
"Write them and find out." William's chuckle was obvious. "It doesn't matter what you call them if they help you stay sane. Of course, you're my family, and I'll help you and your little one, sane or not."  
  
"Thank you for that." A little fragment of her wondered if she should be thankful for that, thankful that a pair of vampires would kill for her. But they were family, the only family that she still had, at least for another few months. Sometimes, life didn't go as you wanted, and you had to adapt.  
  
End Bohemian Scandals 3: Not so Grieving Widow. 


	4. Scandalous Departure

Author: Lucinda  
  
Rating: pg/pg13  
  
Fourth in Bohemian Scandals  
  
Main characters: Irene Adler-Norton, William (Spike), and Drusilla  
  
Disclaimer: William & Dru belong to Joss Whedon; Irene Adler is the creation of Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle.  
  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Quickfics anyone else please ask.  
  
Note: This is set in the 1910s, with Irene Adler-Norton (of Sherlock Holmes) as a relative of the Vampire then known as William the Bloody (although not to his niece).  
  
  
  
Somehow, Matthew Norton had been found, and had arrived in Bath to claim his brother's property. She suspected that Travers had somehow been involved. He'd already been there, and it had been made very clear that he intended to claim the house. Also apparent to Irene was the fact that Matthew lacked much of Godfrey's refinement and good manners, at least to judge from the way he'd been looking at her and Drusilla. It had been all she could do to convince William and Dru not to kill him, and she'd been more worried about the aftermath than anything else.  
  
"I still think he should be ripped into little pieces and planted in the garden." Dru's voice was slightly husky as she hissed at the door, fangs showing.  
  
Irene tried not to smile, she really did. "Not only would his disappearance draw too much attention, he'd probably kill the flowers."  
  
"Dreadful nasty man. The salt has washed away his manners. He's all salty and rude..." Dru sniffled disdainfully, sulking over her tea.  
  
"Yes, but I do believe that everything has been packed. The few things that I wanted to take are disguised among your luggage, and we can leave after tea." Irene smiled, sipping daintily at the hot cup.  
  
"But, Irene, silly, we didn't have very much luggage." Dru blinked at her, frowning slightly. The confusion allowed her eyes to drift to their more human looking darkness.  
  
Sweetly, Irene smiled. "I know that, you know that, and William knows that. Matthew Norton does not know that. I see no reason why he should gain everything that was mine as well as everything that was Godfrey's."  
  
They left the teacups on the table, as if expecting a maid to take them away later. Ordinarily, that would have happened, except for the fact that one of the maids had insisted on going with the departing group, and the rest of the staff had decided that they did not approve of the new Mister Norton. As a sign of that, they had all decided to accept some of the various offers of employment elsewhere that had been extended over the past year. Matthew Norton would have the house, and the furniture, and a sizable account, but no staff. Let him deal with it.  
  
Dru was smirking as she helped Irene into her cloak, fussing to make certain it was warm enough. She didn't seem nearly worried, although it wasn't as if she needed to worry about catching cold herself. They were both smiling as they slipped out of the house. Irene had slid the journal into her reticule, along with a pencil to write with if the need arose.  
  
William was waiting at the carriage, leaning against it like someone in a theatrical production. He smiled as they arrived, and helped them both into the carriage, where little Nettie, not the youngest maid, but rather small in stature, awaited, her eyes wide with mingled emotions.  
  
"Isn't this all rather..." Nettie's whisper tapered off, as if she was uncertain how to put her feelings into words.  
  
Irene simple smiled. "Yes, I suppose it is rather improper. But I have no wish to remain in Bath, under Matthew Norton's sufferance. I have dealt with the world once before, and I am more than capable of doing so again."  
  
"Not the whole world, 'Reenie." William was smirking a bit. "Just London for now. Until we figure out the next step."  
  
"London will be quite enough for a beginning." She was smiling, part of her anticipating the increased challenge. Godfrey had been wonderful, but he'd tried to wrap her up in safety, to keep her as delicately sheltered and uninvolved as most society ladies were. That might have been splendid... for someone else, but not for her.  
  
"Perhaps we'll run into your fan." William was teasing, his eyes twinkling.  
  
Dru looked up, her fingers tangled in some pale green thread. "A fan? Why would... oh, what sort of performance would gain you a fan, Irene? Is it for making pretty pictures?"  
  
Irene could feel herself blushing a bit. "No, Dru, my painting isn't nearly that good. I used to sing... I was in an Opera company for a while. I think I did quite well, actually."  
  
William shook his head, looking quite amused. "I wouldn't say quite good, 'Reenie. You were practically famous. Famous enough to catch the eye of that miserable Bohemian."   
  
Irene smiled, remembering her time with Sigi almost fondly. If only he hadn't had that dratted obligation to take a bride with ancestry as impressive as his own... "Yes, well.... Sigi was pleased by my voice. But my ancestry isn't sufficiently royal enough."  
  
"I still think he wasn't worth your time." William scowled, still annoyed over the idea that a simple matter of ancestry had made her one-time paramour decide that she wasn't worthy of marriage.  
  
"Yes, well… he's decided to marry that Scandinavian, so let him live with his decisions." She sighed, a part of her still wondering about what could have been. "If we can prevent unwanted attention while in London…"  
  
"And what about a certain detective?" William was smirking a little, watching Irene. "Would his attentions be unwelcome?"  
  
She could feel herself blushing at the mention of Sherlock Holmes. He was not precisely handsome, but instead more striking in features, and almost startlingly intelligent at times. "Mr. Holmes would be… an additional complication. I would rather avoid any more complications than necessary."  
  
"Of course, 'Reenie." William sounded far too amused. "We'll try to avoid the detective."  
  
End Scandalous Departure. 


	5. Scandalous Entrance

Author: Lucinda  
  
Rating: pg/pg13  
  
Fifth in Bohemian Scandals  
  
Main characters: Irene Adler-Norton, William (Spike), Drusilla, Sherlock Holmes  
  
Disclaimer: William & Dru belong to Joss Whedon as do the Watcher's Council; Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes are the creation of Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle. Some original characters, based on the worlds of these authors will be present.  
  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, Cat anyone else please ask.  
  
Note: This is set in the 1910s, with Irene Adler-Norton (of Sherlock Holmes) as a relative of the Vampire then known as William the Bloody (although not to his niece).  
  
The little house was barely large enough to comfortably hold all of them, but it was the best that they could do on such short notice. Honestly, it was mainly through William throwing a large sum of money at the owner that they had managed to rent it at all. More money combined with a murmur that his 'cousin' had recently lost her husband to a tragic accident and needed a change of scenery for her health had ensured that they didn't have too many questions or visitors.  
  
Irene had made a solid start on the journal, jotting down all of the feelings and concerns that had plagued her since James Travers had engaged poor Godfrey's firm, about the demon, and William and Drusilla's arrival. She was also noting down any particularly vivid dreams, uncertain what was the fanciful production of her mind, and what might be a true premonition. Dru had promised that she'd eventually learn to tell the dreams from the visions, but that didn't quite help her now.  
  
"Where is your admirer now, pretty?" Dru's voice was soft.  
  
"He doesn't live in this neighborhood. His office is on Baker Street, which is to the north and west of here." Irene turned, looking at Dru. The dark haired vampire was dressed in a gown of deep green, a similar one on her prized Miss Edith, holding the porcelain doll in one arm. All in all, Dru looked gently raised, a bit soft in the head, and utterly harmless.  
  
"Does he stay there, or might he be out wandering?" Dru settled in a chair, and started to comb Miss Edith's hair.  
  
"Dru... He's a detective. He goes out wandering a great deal, and not always in London. He might not even be in the city tonight." Despite her words, she had the feeling that they were wrong. Irene was oddly certain that Sherlock Holmes was in London, and that she'd be seeing him again in the near future.  
  
Giggling, Dru glanced up at Irene, her eyes peeking through thick lashes. "Will he be wandering into your room one night? You shouldn't be alone forever."  
  
"Oh!" Irene gave the vampire a shocked look, suddenly reminded of the so much more casual approach taken to life and passion. "I.... I don't know. He's not without his own appeal, but... Things are already complicated. And what about... if I'm expecting, could that... would it even be safe for the baby?"  
  
"Play gently and all should be just wonderful." Dru waved her hand, and then frowned, lifting her doll and assuming a look of concentration.  
  
Irene moved closer, reaching to gently remove the comb from Drusilla's hand. "What does Miss Edith have to say?"  
  
"You'll have a pretty little girl. And those nasty men mustn't find her." Dru looked up, and then smiled. "I shall have to start embroidering little flowers on the dressing gowns. Flowers and ribbons and butterflies... But no stars. Babies are too little to listen to the stars, they should be asleep."  
  
"A daughter." Irene smiled, lifting Miss Edith from Dru's arms and holding the doll as if she were an infant. "My very own sweet little girl..."  
  
"Maybe you should find her a daddy?" Dru giggled before rising to leave the room.  
  
Irene really should have known better than to expect things to be quiet. London wasn't particularly peaceful at the best of times - oh, nothing drastic, it wasn't as if there were fires and riots on a regular basis. But there were congested streets, spreads of the influenza or the cough, occasional labor disputes, shortages of goods at the markets... All the sorts of things that were only to be expected in a growing city.   
  
The quiet managed to last three days after they'd managed to get settled into the house. She wasn't quite certain what had caused it, but she could hear... It was like hearing muffled shouting, and stomping feet, as if she could hear angry people chasing someone. But there was no such sound, nothing disturbing Nettie as she plucked weeds from the narrow flowerbeds around the house. Was she hearing the future while awake instead of simply dreaming in her sleep? Sighing, she went inside, feeling the urge to check how many linens she had that could be turned into bandages, and what sort of medicines there might be. Unfortunately, there really wasn't much besides a nearly forgotten bottle of laudanum that Dru had wandered home with the night that they'd moved in. It would have to do.  
  
The sun was just sinking when the sounds came back. This time, she wasn't the only one to hear them. Nettie dropped the tray that had the almost empty teapot, squeaking as the still warm drink splashed over her feet. Dru and William came to the parlor, frowning in confusion. Irene just sighed, and looked over at Nettie. "I think you should go get the bandages ready. And send in Bert."  
  
"Reenie, why did you send for the footman?" William asked, his shirt cuffs still unbuttoned.  
  
"Because it's still to early for you to fish someone out of the little hayloft..." She answered before she even had time to think about her words. "And how did I even...?"  
  
There was a clattering sound outside, and then a loud creaking. The footman, partly chosen for his large size and partly for his lack of any questions beyond 'where should I put this, then?' appeared at the doorway. "You sent for me?"  
  
Irene sighed, trying not to watch as Dru giggled into William's shoulder. "Yes. It appears that some... There was a crashing sound from the stable. Could you please find out what happened? And if there is an individual in the hayloft as a result, please bring them in for a few questions."  
  
Bert's response was a simple nod and a noise that was probably 'yes'm' as he left the doorway.  
  
"I told you that the roof wasn't quite sound anymore." William muttered.  
  
"I know that you did. But we've had so many other things to take care of in the few days that we've been here…" Irene sighed. "I was truly hoping to avoid any further complications."  
  
Nettie came back with the linen bandages, a kettle of hot water, and a needle and thread. She also placed Dru's mostly full bottle of laudanum on the table. "Here you are, ma'am. Will there be anything else?"  
  
"Thank you. Could you prepare the spare room is ready? I have a feeling that Bert will be bringing someone inside, and we'll have to have somewhere to put them." Irene gripped her skirt in and effort to keep her hands from shaking.  
  
"Right away." Nettie bobbed in a half curtsey and left the room again.  
  
"What… Right, put him on the couch then." William gestured to the footman, scowling at the limp figure in the footman's arms. One arm was bleeding, his exposed wrist looked raw, with a few deeper scratches, and dark hair fell from a bruised face. "Try to avoid the complications, and the biggest complication… well, not quite the biggest."  
  
"He doesn't look very well cared for." Dru observed, peeking around William to look at the injured and unconscious man on the couch. "I think he was tied up, and ran away."  
  
"He does look like he was being held prisoner. Not very well held though." William felt along the arm, checking for broken bones. "Which leaves the question of was he held by people who didn't know how to keep prisoners, or was he supposed to get away eventually?"  
  
"Remind me to be disturbed later by the implications of that." Irene murmured, already getting the cloths ready to wash away the blood, dirt and hay chaff from the injuries. "Granted that the circumstances are less than ideal, Drusilla, this is Sherlock Holmes, the detective."  
  
"Can we keep him?" She smiled, glancing down at the man on the couch.  
  
"We aren't staying in London forever." Irene replied, not even wanting to consider Dru's request. The detective was a man, not a stray kitten or dog to keep as a pet. "But we shall have to discover what happened, not all of these injuries came from falling through the stable roof."  
  
"The question becomes what sort of trouble is he caught up in this time." William chuckled, and walked over to the table. "I don't think he's quite awake enough for the laudanum, 'Reenie. What are you doing with this stuff anyhow?"  
  
"Dru brought it home with her. The pair of you went out for dinner when we moved in, and she brought it back. You brought back a volume of poetry, which is in the library, if you recall. I didn't ask where she found it." Irene sighed, and started wrapping linen strips around his wrist. "He'll probably need some later."  
  
"I shall put Miss Julianna in the spare room to keep watch over him." Dru announced as she walked towards the door. Leaning close to William, she whispered, "Maybe we should keep him for 'Reenie?"  
  
"Worry about that later, luv. First we need to find out why he was running." William leaned over, kissing her temple. "I'll help get him all fixed up."  
  
Moving to assist Irene, he sighed. "So much for keeping out of his notice."  
  
"I know. But we tried, and this wasn't our fault. Perhaps a measure of complication was simply inevitable." Irene sighed, wiping at a trickle of blood that came from the detective's scalp.  
  
End Scandal 5: Scandalous Entrance. 


	6. Scandalous Suggestions

Author: Lucinda

Sixth in Bohemian Scandals

Main characters: Irene Adler-Norton, William (Spike), and Drusilla

Disclaimer: William & Dru belong to Joss Whedon as do the Watcher's Council; Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes are the creation of Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle. Some original characters, based on the worlds of these authors will be present.

Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Paula, Cat anyone else please ask.

Note: This is set in the 1910s, with Irene Adler-Norton (of Sherlock Holmes) as a relative of the Vampire then known as William the Bloody (although not to his niece) and eventually as Spike.

Note 2: For the curious, Laudanum is an opium derivative that was frequently used as a painkiller. It was also addictive, and frequently prescribed for ladies to take during/around their monthlies, as a treatment for cramps and/or hysterics. Yes, it was addictive. Morphine was a later medicine that was also an opium derivative, and is/was a more potent painkiller and also addictive.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Dru had just poured a cup of tea for Irene when the detective regained consciousness. He groaned, and one hand twitched before pulling upwards to touch his head. Irene glanced over, and sighed, gathering her skirts in order to rise and pick back up the tray of medicinals.

William moved closer, smirking at the man. "So, what sort of trouble did you get yourself into this time?"

"Oh... Not you again." The words were a hoarse whisper, filled with dismay. "Although I suppose this is an improvement from their hospitality."

"Don't look so dismayed, Detective." William grinned. "You decided to drop in on us, not the other way around."

"You're... not invited anyhow." Holmes muttered.

"What can you tell us about what happened to you, Mister Holmes?" Irene decided that she'd best prevent this from getting too personal between them, if possible. She also decided that she'd have to ask uncle William just how he did know the detective, it would probably be a fascinating story.

"Miss Adler...?" He blinked, trying to raise himself to a seated position before wincing and abandoning the effort. "No, it's Mrs. Norton now, isn't it? The topic is hardly suited for someone of a delicate constitution."

"I suppose either one will do. My husband has..." Irene paused, trying to sort out the appropriate explanation. "I'm a widow now. As for delicate sensibilities, I'm the one who has given you the bandages that currently adorn your person. I fail to see how learning the cause of your injuries will be worse than attending to them."

For a moment, he looked thoughtful, and then he nodded slightly. "I suppose you have the right of it. I was being held by certain persons who felt that I could inform them about the location of... well, I suppose it doesn't quite matter what. Their methods of attempted persuasion leave something to be desired, and then they left me alone for a while. I believe they felt the time alone would weaken my resolve, and instead I used the opportunity to leave."

"Were they human?" William asked, a hint of growl creeping into his voice.

"The one in charge appeared to be." He paused, looking as if he was either contemplating his memories or fighting back the pain. "I can't be as certain about his subordinates. He was however, most eager to acquire the article in question before someone named Travers could do so."

"Travers?" Irene murmured, wondering if this was the same person who had retained the legal firm that her husband had worked at. "Would that be James Travers, perhaps?"

"Reenie, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" William asked, a faint smile gentling his expression.

"I can't be certain, as they didn't use his full name." The detective apologized.

"If he's after it, do we actually want to hope he gets it, whatever it happens to be, or do we want…" Irene paused, and glanced at the multitude of bandages on the detective. "No, we don't want them to get it either."

"How long do you think it will take them to scramble for it and find each other?" Dru asked, a sly smile on her face. "Drink your tea before it gets cold."

"What plans do you have for the future, Miss… Mrs… Irene?" The detective's question faltered a bit, and he couldn't quite look at her.

"The house in Bath is now legally the property of Godfrey's brother, so I won't be returning there." Irene offered, not certain if she wanted the detective to know where she would be. She didn't think he would mean her or her baby any harm, but could she afford the chance of even accidental endangerment? "I suppose for a while I shall stay with William, until I can figure out something more definite. The tragedy is still rather recent. Most likely, I shall want to go somewhere new, that will not have memories of what is now forever out of reach."

"Quite understandable, fair lady." Holmes murmured. "I will pry no further into your life."

"I suppose you shall have to stay here for a while, in order to recover." Irene mused, almost thinking out loud. "That will also ensure that any persons who are still searching for you will move away from here, and look elsewhere. You can regain your strength and think of a suitable explanation for those who might need some sort of answer, and… I suppose I need time to make some plans myself."

"Are we keeping him then?" Dru asked, standing beside Irene and holding out the teacup. "Your tea, pretty."

"Thank you, Drusilla." Irene murmured, sipping at the tea. "Mister Holmes will be staying here for a while, but we are not keeping him. He is a man, not a stray kitten."

"Maybe he'd like to be your kitten?" Dru whispered. "You could pet him, and rub his… tummy."

Irene blushed, the words raising a host of inappropriate images into her mind. She wasn't entirely certain that she didn't like them, which made it more embarrassing. "It isn't for me to decide what the detective would like or not."

"Irene, you need to relax a bit more." Drusilla pouted, and scowled at the injured man. "Don't make her cry."

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing!" Holmes protested.

"Good." With a small sniff, Drusilla left the room, her skirts swirling around her ankles.

"She is a bit eccentric." Irene offered.

"Eccentric?" He repeated with a lifted eyebrow. "You certainly seem to be… that is, it appears that your… that William and Drusilla are trying their best to help you through this difficult time."

Irene nodded, noting that it seemed hard for him to offer a compliment to her uncle. At the same time, he was clearly trying to be polite. It was rather amusing, actually. "Yes they are. Would you care for some laudanum now, to blunt the pain a bit?"

For a moment, it looked as if he would refuse, but then, almost seeming to deflate a bit, he nodded. "I suppose a little wouldn't make things any worse than they are now."

Irene returned to the tea set, and poured a measure of laudanum into the bottom of a cup, adding the tea slowly so that it would encourage the mingling of the two liquids. "Uncle William, can you lift him up a bit, so that he can drink this?"

"You do know that tea isn't the answer to everything?" William muttered, carefully lifting the detective to a sitting position.

"But it does work nicely to mix liquid medicines into." Irene said firmly.

"I suppose it does." William conceded.

The detective offered her a small salute, and drank the tea. "Fair lady, I thank you for all that you have done for me."

Irene nodded, and returned her attention to the tray. William could help her put him into the spare room after the laudanum had taken effect. Keeping him… Shaking her head, she resolved to try not to let those images influence her actions. He wouldn't' be staying. It was too risky to let him.

But wouldn't it be nice if he could? If she could keep him with her, to have someone to comfort her and support her when things remained complicated and demanding? Someone to stay with her and help raise her child? Perhaps she could even have more children later, if she could find the right sot of person to have them with.

Shaking her head, she decided that she was being silly, and such thoughts should at the least wait until she knew where she was going. Besides, most men didn't want to help raise someone else's child, they wanted their own children. Still, a small corner of her continued to dream.

End Scandal 6: Scandalous Suggestions


End file.
